Onward Singapore!

I just learnt a rather surprising fact recently about the inhabitants of Singapore.

It turns out; the majority of them cannot speak Malay.

Perhaps that’s not much of an eye brow raiser. But consider this; Malay is one of their official languages. Furthermore, their national anthem ‘Majulah Singapura’ is written in Malay and only be sung in Malay.

The term ‘Majulah Singapura’ is seen on a lot of the official buildings, crest or what have you around the country. It was a term that really made an impression on me when I first came to Singapore.  As a Malaysian, Singapore had always been the more modern, more developed neighbor we all so loved to envy and make fun of, a bit like Belgians with the French, or Canadians with the US. We didn’t like them for the way prosperity had made them, but we still respected that they achieved what they did, which was so much, with what they had, which was so little.

So when I first learnt of the term ‘Majulah Singapura’, I was impressed. Literally it meant ‘Onward Singapore’. I remember thinking that this was just about the most appropriate motto you could ever attach to Singapore. It is a country all about progress, development and becoming a global, world class city... moving forward in short. You feel it the moment your feet touches the ground here. ‘Kiasu Singapura’ would probably fit the bill too.. but I’ll stay away from jibes for now. Credit should be given to where it is due, and Singapore truly lived up to its motto. I mean the first one of course.

So I guess as a national anthem, Singaporeans would have every reason to feel proud singing it. If only they understood the words that is.

My surprise about Singaporeans not being able to speak Malay wasn’t so much about the ability itself, but rather that they were singing their own national anthem in words they themselves didn’t understand. Kind of like how a lot of Muslims in Malaysia learn how to read the Quran and Arabic words without really knowing the meaning of any of those words.

Of course, it was explained to me that Singaporeans (who aren’t Malay) would be thought the meaning of the anthem in the other official languages i.e. English, Mandarin and Tamil… so overall, they did understand what they were singing…… but still…. It doesn’t feel quite right to me that a citizen of a country would need a translation of his national anthem before he could understand it. It just isn’t right. Perhaps there was a historical reason why Malay was kept, I wouldn’t know. But it doesn’t seem like Singaporeans themselves know either. It becomes especially ironic when I, a Malaysian, could read or listen to it the very first time and understood perfectly what it said. It’s like your neighbor being able to read the sign board in your house that you yourself cannot read.

I don’t mean this as a jibe, nor any disrespect to Singaporeans. It is a country that continues to have my respect and admiration. Singaporeans and Malaysians have such common roots that sometimes when I’m here, I forget that I’m really overseas. Everything here feels just like home, but better in many ways.

But you really got to do something about your national anthem. 

Good Friday, No Holiday?

Why isn't Good Friday a public holiday? 

Many people know Christmas is an important day for Christians. But did you know that Christmas is important BECAUSE there was Good Friday and subsequently Easter? If you take Good Friday and Easter away, no Christian would bother celebrating Christmas. Christmas is meaningful because of Easter. Easter is meaningful because of Good Friday. Did you know that? Ask any Christian, he/she will tell you why. 

You don’t get catchy carols, presents or holiday treats on this weekend of Good Friday and Easter. It’s a lot less glamorous, and a lot less noticed here in Malaysia, but I assure you, it is a lot more important.

So if Christmas is a holiday, why isn’t Good Friday one too?

When Malaysia won the (not so) prestigious Suzuki cup a few years ago, a public holiday was declared.

When the Sultan of Kedah entered the Malaysian Book of Records for being elected the Agong for the second time, a public holiday was declared. 

So, when Jesus Christ died on the cross this very day two thousand years ago, paying for everyone’s sins, why isn’t a public holiday declared?

You may say “Well, that’s a religious thing… and I’m not a Christian. We are not a Christian nation. Ini negara Islam…Why SHOULD it be a holiday?”

The same reason Aidifitri, Aidiladha, Awal Muharram, Prophet Muhammad’s Birthday, Christmas, Deepavali, Wesak, Thaipusam, Agong’s Birthday, Sultans Birthday, Federal Territory day, Labour Day, Chinese New Year, Malaysia Day and all the other days gazette as a public holiday;

That people should be allowed to celebrate the things that are important to them.

And that others that may or may not find those things as important, are still allowed to be happy for their neighbour and celebrate with them.

Isn’t that supposed to be the whole ‘muhibbah’ 1Malaysia thing that’s supposed to make us Malaysian?

Good Friday and Happy Easter guys. 

of Winter & Springs

Life can seem so tragic and sad sometimes. 

Just the other day, I was talking to a close friend, and she told me her father said to her "I feel lonely." Her mother, his wife, had passed away some time ago. Even though quite some time had passed, he still felt lonely. I felt sad hearing that. It's a horrible feeling, having a void in your heart and having nothing to fill it with. That same friend also told me her grandmother just passed away a few week earlier. She had succumbed to old age. And though she lived to a ripe old age, a loss is still a loss. She tells me with all this death and sadness surrounding her, she just doesn't feel like there is much to look forward to in this life. Even her own desires to be married and settle down seem dimmed. 

On the same night, I learn that another close friend just went through a roller coaster month, having just broken up with a boyfriend, only to reconcile almost a week later. How turbulent her heart must be. I asked if everything is okay.. if everything is normal again. She says yes... but there never really is such things as normal when you go through something like that. I remember this same friend a few months back. She was flying down to Singapore every weekend to be with this Auntie.. who was on the verge of dying. I remember the look on her face when she spoke about this old lady. She was like a grandmother to her.. and I could tell that she loved her dearly. 

Again, at the beginning of the year, my other half was surfing Facebook when she came across a lot of post from other people on a particular persons wall. Apparently, her friend from primary school had passed away in a car accident. We loaded his facebook page and scrolled down the wall. There were countless tributes and words of sadness from everyone over his passing. You could read how sad everyone was about his sudden death. We scrolled further down... and you see post from a day before...many of his friends posting on his wall... asking him to Wake up, wake up, wake up!!! Saying how mad they would be if he didn't wake up and buy them that beer he promised. Asking him to stop sleeping already and wake up to for futsal this Sunday. He went into a coma after the accident. We scrolled even more to just 2 days before the accident, and you could still see his last post on Facebook. He posted a song he liked to share with everyone. He made a shout out to a friend for some event there were going to attend. I guess he can't make it anymore. 

My own grandmother passed away a few months back. It was the first funeral in my family for almost 2 decades. The last person to have died was my grandfather, her husband. And although I wasn't particularly close to my grandmother, watching my uncles and aunties and even my own father shed tears of sadness made me sad too. So many celebrities we know have died too; Whitney Houston died, Steve Jobs died, Michael Jackson died, Amy Winehouse died..... Their deaths are seldom related to us, yet we feel sad too. We somehow feel a loss simply because we know a life was lost.. and it could easily have been us.. or the ones we love. 

Death is grim. But it is surprisingly a good reminder of life. After being surrounded by death, you become acutely aware of how alive you are. Holding someone you love, you don't just feel their skin anymore. You feel the warmth of their palm and the blood that runs beneath it. Being aware of death, you suddenly realize how precious, how beautiful, how fleeting life can be. Every laughter and tear seems magnified. Every moment seems so precious. 

My other half was asking me the other day "How do you think all those vampires would feel.. in the movies.. if they could live forever.. how do you think they would feel?" 

I was surprised. She wasn't the kind that usually asked this sort of questions. 

I guess it would be a lot like the greek gods. Those who lived forever would feel bored and detached. Since everything is timeless, no amount of change seem to matter. Since there is no death, there is no renewal. Everything becomes stale. Life becomes stale. 

Ironically, death makes life beautiful. 

I've never quite understood people attraction to babies. I've always been awkward around them. But more and more, I'm starting to realize.. When people look at a baby, they aren't just looking at a cute, chubby little  miniature human.. they are looking at creation renewed. They are looking at life in its spring. Where hope blossoms and happiness flows. And I guess for many of us who are starting to see one too many winters, there can never be enough of spring... 

Have a good night everyone. 

The Hair Salon

Apparently, I have a small problem with going to hair salons.

For some reason, the few times that I have dared ventured into a hair salon to get my hair cut by a 'proper' hair styles, I have consistently shown signs of nervousness, stress and anxiety. I sort of freeze up, I can't speak like I normally do, and when the hair stylist ask me "So how would like your hair cut?", I look like I'm constipated. 

You see, I grew up going to Barber shops. In the barber shop, you sit down and read old Lao Fu Zi or Archie comics while waiting your turn. On the walls, there are usually pictures of famous Indian actors like Rajini Khan, Shah Rukh Khan or whatever Khan was the latest rage in Bollywood at the time. When your turn is up, the barber will usually be shaving away half the hair on your head before you even get to warm up the seat. You can are of course allowed to tell him how you would like your hair to be styled. Fringes, partings, slopes... specify to him whatever you want. The only catch is, no matter what you say, it will still come out exactly the same. They were kind of like the Henry Ford of the hair cutting industry. You can have any style you want, as long as its short and ugly. But for the fast and hassle free experience and the price you pay, people seldom make complains. It's not the sort of hair cut you'd go to your prom with, but it's not that ugly that you'd never return to the barber shop ever again. And since there are so many barber shops around, if you didn't like one, you could simply go to another till you find one that cuts your hair to your satisfaction. 

But hair salons are a different matter all together.

It's a barber shop, you get a fat (and sometimes smelly) guy with a very conservative hair himself tending to your needs. He cuts in an efficient and steady manner. Style and flair is secondary. In the hair salon, you have a young, funky man/woman, usually spotting some outlandish hairdo. He/She trims your hair literally like it's about to become their next masterpiece. Even before the stylist ever sees you, there is shampoo lady, who will wash your hair and dry it.. making sure its clean enough to be touched by the sacred hands of the holy hair stylist. And when the stylist finally shows up, he gives your hair a few flicks. And unless he did your last hair cut, he'd probably look at you as if Edward Scissorhands did your last hairdo. Then... there is the dreaded question... "How would you like your hair?"

And that's where I crumble like a cookie. Bare with me a bit here OK.

You see a hair stylist and pay more money instead of a barber because you want better hair. That implies that you acknowledge that the stylist is an expert at the subject matter; that he knows more about your hair that you do. That in turn implies that you should listen to their expert advice. So if I'm paying them for their counsel, why the f**k am I being asked how I like my hair? I want nice, neat and presentable hair. That's all I can say. Don't ask me what to do. You tell me!

Anyway, I understand that the stylist just cant start cutting your hair without first knowing what you have in mind.. or knowing your appetite for funky hairdos. So it's not totally unreasonable that they get some feedback before butchering my hair. So I go

Ahem.. well.. I want the sides to be.... short... and the top to be.... neat.. and erm... overall.. it should look...... well.... presentable-la... You know. The kind your mother wouldn't cringe at....the kind that makes you look opposite of what a Lala-boy would look like.

*lame look from the stylist*

And then they go "Oh you know.. your face is oval.. so your hair shouldn't be too short, otherwise, you look like an egg... OMG.. the rear of your skull is a bit odd... so again, short will expose it and make you look funny... and side partings are so last century... I really wouldn't recommend it. You shouldn't come downwards.. it should be spiky and upwards.. pointing to the sky because that's where heaven is...

WTF...

It seems like I've surrendered both my money and my hair to the next Mr. Vidal Saasoon to become his next masterpiece Guinea pig. Not only am I not going to get the hair I want. I'm going to have to pay I'm for it.

Ah.. then there's the money... the big game changer. Like I said, you pay the stylist substantially more (3 times more to be exact) than you do the barber. That means you both acknowledge that there is a higher value in this cut... be it tangible or intangible. So since they are charging you more, and you are paying more.. there's gotta be something that is different. I suspect that the stylist feels they feel obliged to make your money's worth by throwing outlandish and funky hairdo ideas to you and cut you hair as if your hair was their greatest creation to date. They won't let you get away with short, neat and presentable... because that's so beneath them... so..... barber-ish... And YOU... you can't walk away with merely short, neat, presentable  

hair especially when you are paying that kind of money for a freaking haircut! So you take all the crazy funky hair ideas from the glorified barber stylist .. because you think that's what you paid all that money for.... even if you don't really want anything funky at all..

You see my where I'm getting at?

Halfway through the haircut... when the stylist goes off to get some more contraptions to carve my head, my other half comes up to me and whispers "You know...you do realize that  if you're not happy with the way he's cutting you hair, you can always tell him to do it differently right?"

Well honey... that's what I thought with the barber too....

Have a good week everybody.

If you died today

If you died today, who will miss you most?

Would it be your boss? Would it be your colleagues? Would it be your friends? Would it be your family?

If you died today, who will find it hardest to move on?
Your telco company? Your bank? Your other half? Your family?

If you died today, what will you worry about the most after you are gone?
Your unfinished work in office? The state of politics in your country? Your family?

Every now and then, I lose perspective of what's important. It's sad that it often takes something dramatic to happen, like someone we personally know dying suddenly, before we are reminded again on what are the truly important things in life.

Another Day to Live

For about ten minutes, I seriously thought my time to die had come today.

It was when the lights went dim and the pilot announced "Flight attendants, please take your seats for landing.." But instead of descending, the plane swerved violently and started to make a sharp dive then a sharp climb. Everyone in the plane was started. I felt an intensity of the G-Force pushing down on me as the plane seemed to climb desperately. I spontaneously let out a low groan. It seemed everyone around me felt it too. I could feel the intensity of the wind. And sitting at the back rows of the plane, the feeling of being tossed around could only have been worse.

I had been on many flights before, and this was certainly not normal. Pilots don't suddenly decide to go all roller-coaster immediately after announcing a landing. Perhaps at the very last minute before touching down, the pilot had to abort the landing due to an unexpected wind. Whatever it was, it scared me. I switched off my MP3 player and started paying attention. The little boy next to me was terrified. And his mom was trying hard to reassure her. But I could feel her mothers nervous energy. To my left, the man sitting next to me had tightened his seat belt for the third time.

I didn't know what to do. There was nothing I could do anyway. I thought of all those disaster movies, where the poor characters all are stuck on a place that's about to crash, and the hero comes up to the crowd and says "If you believe in God, now's a good time to start praying..." There was no hero in my plane, but I started praying anyway. I suddenly understood why some people were so terrified of flying. There was absolutely nothing you can do if something bad was about to happen. Your life literally depends on 3 parties; the pilot whose flying the plane, the engineer who built and maintains the plane, and most importantly, God himself who decides which wind blows your way. You just had to trust that they each would do what they promised to do; one to fly, the other to fix and the last one, to save.

So I closed my eyes and started praying. Or at least I tried to. It all came out in an incoherent mix of fear, hope and faith. What you have no time to think, the things most important to you, usually come out most naturally...

"Oh God... help us. Help us get through this safely. If its possible, not yet God, not yet. I can't die yet. My family needs me. They need me. Please God. But if I really die God.. if I really die.. then let them be OK... Please let them be OK...."

That Garth Brooks song started playing in my head.... "If tomorrow never comes, will she know how much I loved her? Is the love I gave in the past, going to be enough to last, if tomorrow never comes?" I closed my eyes and started visualizing my own funeral... with my father, mother, brother, wife, friends all standing around sobbing. Would they ever know that my dying thoughts were on them? Will they be alright? Funny that my thoughts were more on those who would survive me rather than on my own death. I kind of knew that once I was dead, that was it. In the blackness of death, a day would be a thousand years. And a thousand years would be a day. But for those who lived on, it would be weeks, months, years and decades of sadness and lost.

Hours earlier, my wife hugged me closely and said to me "Come home safely OK dear.. I can't afford to lose you." I had always brushed talked like that aside. To me, I wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon, so there was no need for such talk. But right now, sitting in a plane being tossed by the winds so easily... her worries didn't seem so unfounded after all. After about 20 minutes of circling around, waiting for the weather to subside, the pilot announced that we will be making the 'final' approach to land. The most dangerous part of a flight is often the landing. I was still recovering from the earlier failed landing attempt.  I didn't like the 'final' part in his sentence. It was still raining heavily. I wondered if perhaps we should wait longer before trying again?

Needless to say, this isn't written from the great beyond, and I didn't die. The pilot landed us safely and we arrived in one piece. Although everyone did seem more eager than usual to get out of the plane. The little boy next to me was smiling again. And as for me... well, I kind of laugh at myself.. it felt as if I had gone overboard in my own thoughts (again). Perhaps I wasn't quite at the brink of death as I thought I was.

Sitting in the taxi heading to the hotel, I thought about it a bit more. It didn't really matter if I wasn't technically really going to die. Emotionally, it felt real. Emotionally, in that short ten minutes (that seemed to last an eternity), I had given the prospect of my immediate death very serious consideration. And as expected, the fear associated with it sprung out so great, I was hardly able to contain it. Had something else not sprung at the same time, I don't think I could have taken it so well. That something else was faith. While a big part of me is not ready to die, a big part of me also believes that all things are in the hands of God. If my time was indeed up, I had to trust that God knows what He's doing... and that He would take care of the ones I loved most... and that if I were meant to die today, in the grand scheme of things, it was never going to be without purpose or meaning.

So thank you God... for keeping me safe today. You answered my prayer, and you gave me one more day. I'm calling my family... to tell them I love them. Thank you for that.

2012

It’s 2012.

How time flies. Just like that, another year is gone. It seems the year passed with the blink of an eye doesn’t it? But then again, we say that every year don’t we? Every year seems to past by just as fast as the year before, and before you know it, it is the years that have flown by so fast.

It’s usually the time people reflect on the year that has just passed. It’s also the time people lay out their resolutions (and hopes) for the year to come. I’m tempted to start listing mine here, but I will spare you the agony of having to read them.

I’ve been rather silent in the past year. I don’t write as much as I used to. I can’t really explain why yet. A simple answer would be that I have nothing to write about. But that’s not always true. Many things have happened that I chose not to write about. I would say I don’t have the time, and this would be somewhat true. In between working in a demanding job and starting a new family, I have had very little time to simply sit down alone and have time to myself to write. But I think I have also changed. Sometimes I would jot them down somewhere. But when it comes down to it, I simple never bother to finish my post. I guess on an emotional level, you can say I have moved on to another phase. I no longer feel that need to pen down every emotion that I experience throughout the week. It just doesn’t seem like a big enough of a deal to be recorded in writing.

I also think it’s got a lot to do with the phase in life I am in right now. Once upon a time, I would write a lot about my mother and my ordeals in growing up in a broken and dysfunctional family. Then, I wrote a lot about my other half, about love and about life itself… many things I have come to experience as a young adult for the first time. But right now, to be honest, I am at a stage where there is no drama. There is no heart wrenching incident, there is no tear shedding moment. For this chapter of my life, God has granted me peace. A peace I am savoring every single day by not being in front of the computer, but instead, in front of the people I love. To me, this peace brings about a special kind of joy. A joy that - if I were to try to describe it - is neither loud nor always obvious, but present nonetheless. Like a smile rather than a laugh. Perhaps content is a better word. If I have written very little, it is because I have been busy being happy. And that is the priceless gift I have been given this past year, for which I am deeply grateful.

My greatest wish for 2012 would be just that; that I would again be too busy being happy.. Hopefully, the same would happen for you too.

Happy New Year dear friend. I hope all is well with you.

Warmest Regards
Me
 

Happy I Am

We live in such times, where a person’s greatness is often measured by his stature in society, where wealth measured almost exclusively by the amount of money you have. And in turn, greatness and wealth is used to measure happiness.

Happiness; that elusive state of heart and mind we we all struggle to achieve.

Let me tell you a secret……

I have been cheating.

Because I am neither great,

nor wealthy,

yet,

I am Happy

;-)

Silence is a Word

The thing about communications is, sometimes, even when you don't say anything, even if you keep perfectly silent, you are still saying something.

So when you choose to keep quite my dear... I'm left to wonder.. what are you trying to say?

Sometimes, I actually think I do understand it.. But times like these, I just don't want to.

Everybody's Changing

Everybody’s changing...
and I don’t feel the same...
Perhaps.....
I'm changing too...

Lending To Lionel

A lot of people have been telling me that I should make a police report.  After I found out that Lionel had basically cheated me of my money, I decided to do some digging. I somehow managed to strike up a friendship with the HR lady at his former company. From there, she gave me all his details; his full name, his NRIC number, his old home phone number and even address. I called the number, which as expected, was no longer in service. I have not gone to his house yet. I don't really expect him to still live there. A simple Google search later reveal that Lionel a.k.a. Chia Tiong Beng had been involved (or allegedly involved) in cheating crimes all his life. An article dated 1960 showed that he and another friend were acquitted of cheating a hawker of some money. This was when he was still in his teens.

Another article dated 1996 in Manilla showed that Lionel and his 'wife' were arrested by the Philippine anti corruption agency for cheating Singaporean businessmen out of hundreds of thousands of dollars.

I realized then that the man that I had met was no ordinary swindler. Everything he had told me about himself fit the bill of what I just found. In hindsight, he was a skilled liar. There were many things he said and did subtly that I now realize were meant to lure me into a false sense of security.

Having a thousand dollars taken away from you tends to have an effect on you. Like I said before, I felt dumb, because when you look at it properly, this man didn't set out to cheat me. I practically offered it to him. He merely took a chance at an opening that I guess would be considered 'god sent' to him. I'm not even sure any crime has been committed. I gave him the money at my own free will. He undoubtedly represented himself with false pretenses, but unless I am wrong, verbally lying to a stranger wasn't a criminal offense.

For many days, I considered how I would now respond with my new found information. Whenever I was in Singapore, I would think about nothing except how to get my money back from this man; what I would do to him if I ever saw him again. I remained angry and bitter. I wanted to hurt this man for cheating me out of my hard earned money, however small it may seem in the grand scheme of things. It still hurts every time I look at my bank account and remembered that it's 3 digits short of what I was supposed to have. It hurts even more when I have to tell my family that this or that thing cannot be done anymore since I was out of funds.

But the whole episode has awaken me somewhat.

The pain of the sting reminded me again how valuable money is, and the importance of being prudent and cautious with it. I decided that I will try my best not to let this affect the way I chose to be charitable to others. But I will certainly be much more cautious in the way I give it out. I decided that I mustn't let this make me less trusting of people, but I needed to be wiser in taking the necessary steps to protect myself.

But there was also something else. As valuable as money was, the episode also reminded me of how there were more important things in life than money. I remembered being told of how twenty three thousand people had committed suicide after the great Wall Street Crash of 1929. My church pastors said it was because these men had made money their world and their God. And when your world and your God is lost, even your own life seems not worth living.

I admit, for the better half of the year, my mind had been obsessing with money. As I moved deeper into adulthood, I moved deeper into financial commitments, and suddenly the lack of money became something I was aware of on a daily basis. I had a house to pay for, rent to keep, people to feed, car to maintain, parents to care for, and perhaps in a year or so, children to expect. It was just a matter of time before money took center stage.

The day I admitted defeat, I went home to my wife, embraced her and declared to her "I'm sorry. I feel so stupid.". She stroked my hair, touched my cheeks and told me "It's OK dear... it's only money."

And that was the point of realization for me. Yes it was money. But it was only money. In her eyes, we had lost nothing significant that we could never replace. I guess I needed a reminder of that. It was a humbling moment for me. I was grateful to her for not wagging her finger and saying to me "I told you so.." I was grateful that she wasn't make as big a deal about it as I was.

I remembered some incident many years ago where I had also lost some money and whined about it to a friend. He said this to me "It's okay. Treat it as a tuition fees you had to pay, for the lesson you have now learned." He called this the 'University of Society' where all lessons are through practicals.

I ask myself again what I'd do if I ever bumped into Lionel again. Could I truly do as the bible says and bless the one who curses you, or turn the other cheek? Is there enough grace in my heart to forgive and forget? Do you forgive a person who has neither repented nor asked for forgiveness? Will I try to exact some sort of revenge on him?

Here's the only answer I can muster for now.

I will break his nose. But he can keep the money.

A Fool I Am

Sigh…

Life seems so hard to live at times. I’m the kind of person who usually struggles with himself internally. I have 2 minds in one body. One desiring to do what is good, right and pure all the time. The other desiring to do what is devious, immoral and much less innocent (and seemingly more fun) things. The struggle usually involves trying to muster and rally the ‘light’ part of me so that it is not overtaken by the ‘dark’. Like a single ray of light surrounded by complete darkness, the darker parts of our minds seem to always be threatening to swallow up the light.

I often second guess my own thoughts and intentions. I question my own heart. I find myself always asking if I’m doing the ‘right’ thing in life.

Last week, I found myself driving all the way into the heart of town on a Friday night, braving the horrible traffic and pouring rain. There was a man, a complete stranger, who was waiting for me. He needed what I had in my pocket. An envelope filled with a sizable amount of cash. I had never met him. I had come to know him only a few hours earlier, on the phone. A Singaporean man, stranded in KL. He told me he had lost his wallet and phone while on holiday. He needed money to clear his hotel bill and to take a bus home. His Embassy would not help him and he didn’t know anyone else. He got our number off the internet, called my office, looking for a former colleague of mine. Somehow I ended up taking the call instead, and somehow, I ended up volunteering to help him out of his predicament.

Most of the people I told had raised eyebrows. Apparently to them, this was something totally out of my character. I was less than pleased with their reaction, but I went ahead anyway. I know I’ve never been one to actively participate in charity towards others, be it the poor, needy or sickly. I frown upon giving to street beggars, I coldly turn away people soliciting diner from me over lunch, and I refuse to sign up for any monthly contributions for cancer, world hunger or any sort of humanitarian funding. But this time, for once, I felt sure that this was the right thing to do. There was a man in need of help desperately, and I was in a position to help. And so I did.

When I met him, he was nervous and jittery. I guessed he had a long day. He told me about what happened, how he lost his wallet, how he was refused help, how no one came to his aide. I gave him the cash. He left his Singaporean phone number and address with me. We agreed to meet up the following week, when I was in town. He said he wanted to repay my kindness. I felt good. I felt like for once, I had done something good for someone. I felt like I had done the right thing. It was a risk, giving money to a stranger. A few people raised doubts. “Do you think he’s genuine? Do you think he will really pay you back?” I didn’t really know. I just chose to trust in the goodness and honesty of man.

Right now, it feels more like I’ve was confirming the naivety of fools.

When I was finally back in Singapore and ready to meet the man again, I dropped him a text. It didn’t go through. I tried calling, but the line was still deactivated. Strike one. I was guessing perhaps he still hadn’t got his mobile number reclaimed. I waited a full day, but still no sign of him. I had left my business card with him, but there was no news from him. So I decided to search for his company and called his office instead. But after a 5 minute conversation with reception and a 20 minute talk with the HR department, I discovered that the man didn’t work there anymore. He had left, 10 years ago. Strike two. Still I gave it the benefit of the doubt. The lady who spoke to me seemed to know him personally from back then. She praised me for my kindness, and even vouched for the man. Said he didn’t seem the kind that’d try to pull such a thing, especially in tiny old Singapore. So I gave it one more day.

But the silence bothered me.

And so last night, after dinner I made the drive from my apartment to the address he gave. It was right across town, somewhere in Hougang. I tried imagining all the different scenarios on how this might end up. Would I find him? What would I say? Should I still play nice? Do I make a scene? Do I still try to be graceful? But the scenario that greeted me was the one I feared the most, the one I was hoping to eliminate by driving there.

The address did not exist. The block existed. The floor existed, but not the unit number. Strike three.

I was out.

I was angry. I repeatedly cursed the man under my breath. How dare he take advantage of my kindness. How dare he store me in the face, shake my hand, thank me, then stab me right in the back and run off with my money. But I was angrier at myself. I felt the fool, for naively trusting; for stubbornly choosing to be wide eyed and innocent, even when others were blowing caution to the wind. What was I trying to do, feed my own ego by acting the part of the generous, graceful, good Samaritan?

The one time I decided to act gracefully and innocently became the one time I am reminded why there is very little place for such things in this fallen world. It would seem that in this world, to keep our innocence will mean being fools willing to suffer the indignities of the world. 

If being good is to be a fool, then perhaps, a fool I was meant to be.

Good night world.

Dumb Phones

"You so need to get a Blackberry man..."

And I just smiled.

Not that I haven't thought about it any more. . I had considered it a while back. After all, smartphones are all the craze these days. It would seem almost everyone has it these days. Today, I talked to someone who was carrying 2 smartphones. Perhaps one just wasn't smart enough.

On one hand, I felt that having a smartphone wasn't really that smart. You have internet connection practically everywhere these days. The data plan itself would cost something you could easily eat a weeks worth of lunches for. The phones itself were pretty expensive (to me anyway). And as with my previous post, I already feel like I'm overconnected to the world as it is.

But on the other hand, I still found those black little berry to be incredibly cool to hold and touch...

Hence, this great debate went on in my head... with me giving myself 101 reasons why I'd be so stupid to get one.. and with me telling my other self that I could reason however much I wanted, I'd still want what I want.

Till I read somewhere online... someone made a statement that he felt smartphones actually made people dumb zombies. Because people with smartphones seem to be perpetually looking at their tiny phone communicating with God knows who on screens even when there are people in the flesh and blood around them, and even when they are at what would probably be the most beautiful place on earth...

And that pretty much settled the arguement for me. I wasn't going to get a smartphone unless it was free.

And it's not like all the phones before that were that dumb.

Cheers

of Fatherhood

This weekend would mark the 1^st year of my wedding anniversary.  I guess you could say it’s quite a milestone. To be honest, I didn’t really realize it until my boss (of all people) came up to me and reminded me about it. I found it quite amusing that my own boss knew my own wedding better than I did.

A year plus back, the question most people had for me was “So, how do you feel about getting married?”. A little than less of a year back, the question was “So, how’s married life?” This time around, its “So, when are you going to have kids?”

I know most people ask it as a courtesy of sorts. And in many ways, they are perfectly normal questions. After all, these are the natural progressions of people who step into marriage. My parents and some of our closer friends seem almost more excited over the prospects of having kids than we are.

But honestly, it bothers me.

My wife constantly asks “Don’t you want children?”

My standard reply would be “Of course I want them, just not yet.”

She’s ready, I know. I think she’s been ready since day one of our marriage.

But I’m not…………….. at least I don’t feel like I am.

She’d give me this “You’re such a typical guy…” kind of look. And I suddenly feel like I’m back in the same position I was about 2 years ago. Back then, I seemed to be running away from the idea of marriage, and now I seemed to be running away from the idea of parenthood. As for my wife, she’s way ahead of me emotionally, waiting for me with arms crossed, asking me “I’m ready, you’re not. When are you going to get there?”

But I understand myself. I’m not the sort of guy that takes changes easily. I’m slow when it comes to emotional adjustments. I need time for things to sink in. I need time to get used to new roles I’ve been put in life. And right now, it seems like I’m just getting used to the idea of being someone’s husband. It’s been only a year, but already I feel like I haven’t been a very good one. So, who am I to say I’m ready to be a father? How do you progress on to the next level while you haven’t even mastered the current one? I am reminded of the Calvin and Hobbes comic… where Calvin’s father say he wouldn’t have been in such a hurry if he knew being an adult was so ad-libbed. 

I guess my uneasiness boils down to two things. First, I don’t think I’m good enough to be a father yet. I know to many, it comes naturally. Many women seem to have some sort of maternal instincts built into them that naturally comes out the minute they pick up a baby. Many men I observe also seem to take up fatherhood so effortlessly. But I don’t feel like I am one of them. If I am going to be a father, I’d want to do it right. And right now, if I haven’t sorted out the mess in my own head, I have no business trying to raise a child.

Secondly, it’s my own life. I’m comfortable with the way things are. You could say I even like it. I l enjoy the freedom I have. I already have parents and in laws that are dependent on me. Having a little mini me just feels like another financial burden (as selfish as that sounds) that I’m not quite ready for yet. In my meanest and most blunt manner, I once say to my brother “Well… if he (my father in law) dies and he (my brother in law) moves out, then, ya, I’d be ready for a baby.” I know money isn’t everything. And it seems so crude to be talking about children as if it was something you should want only when you can afford it.

With great faith that even I cannot muster, my wife believes that whatever it is, things will work out fine. That God will provide for our every need. There I realized the difference. While I may know more about God and the bible than she did, she put her faith, hope and trust in God while I placed mine in myself. I am acting exactly the way my father did.

*Shrugs*

Perhaps if it is my fate to be a father soon, I should start looking at my own father too… the one in heaven that is.

Money Matters

“Do you think I’ve lost my bearings?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… do you think I’ve lost sight of what’s important?”

“Maybe…. Ya… A bit I guess… You have been obsessing about money more than I like.”

“Yes, I know. But that’s because I feel very strongly that it’s my duty to provide… and I need to do that well. I feel as if the things I do in the coming few years will impact us for the rest of our lives. If I am to provide more than enough for this family in the future… I need to do something now. But I don’t know if what I can provide is going to be enough. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to put us in a nice big house, afford all the things we want or travel the places we want to see together.”

“Don’t worry dear… whatever you can provide…it will be enough… I don’t need a lot to be happy. We don’t need a lot of money to be happy.”

The thought of money (or the lack of it) had been constantly looming over me of late. It’s a simple thought. “How am I going to find enough money for all the things that require it?” Every single time I pulled out a few hundred dollars from my pocket to be given for medicine, groceries, household necessities, bills, rent… I fear that I’d not have enough the next time I need to pull some out again.

It’s not like I had no income at all. It’s not like we had no place to stay or food to eat. It’s the sheer speed in which the money comes in every beginning of the month gets wiped away so quickly that scares me. What if one day, that money stops coming in… and bills still need to be paid?

I realize that nothing I say here is news to adults the world over. A big part of being an adult would mean tackling and managing these issues. And for a big part of this year, you could say that my singular focus was on trying to manage all the money coming in and going out of my pocket. I suddenly become very aware of the fact that there is fierce competition in the world on what you should do with your money.

Telco’s tell you that you absolutely need an iphone, blackberry of some sort of ‘smart’ phone with a data plan because not having one is so last decade. Insurance agents hound you, scaring you with cost of medical treatment, mutual fund agents warn you on the foolishness of people who don’t invest their money, investors tell you to invest in everything from gold bars, land, blue chip stocks, Islamic funds, bonds, insurance plans and even burial plots (no kidding), credit card companies call you and splash money in your face with deceptively low interest rates per annum, older folks tell you to invest in property quickly before everything becomes unaffordable, friends ask you out for Friday night drinks at bars that sell beer at the cost if liquid gold, airline companies (and other friends) ask you to go on overseas holidays since air travel has become affordable, cancer society and various NGO’s approach you asking you for donations for  well deserved causes, direct marketers push you to buy their super duper washing liquid that cleans both your hair, face, body, car and toilet bowl with a minty fresh scent, random strangers walk up to you asking you to buy lottery tickets, homeless beggars with no leg reach out their hands asking for a dollar.

And at every junction… there is always the same question to be answer.

Should I or should I not put my money here? What is the right thing to do?

I realize that being in charge of your own finances, your own wellbeing, and that of your entire household is tougher than it seems. It’s not so easy trying to be not too emotionally involved in it, yet still be on top of things. Men of ancient days brought food to the table by arming themselves with spears and knives. We don’t carry physical spears and knives anymore. Things have change. But it’s no less easy living in this digital jungle today. I might not be a dad just yet. But I suddenly understand how it’s like for them.

Renewing Bonds

I received a surprise call from one of my old college friends the other day.

He was actually the very first person I befriended when I started life in college. In fact, he was the only one I considered a 'friend' in my first year. In my second year, I made a few more. By the end of my forth year, I counted only 5 as 'friends' in the truest sense. The language might have been a barrier, but I think I was slow to make friends in those years. Perhaps even now.

And the thing about talking to old friends.. is that you always end up talking about all the others in the same batch. We were in the same clique after all.

It would seem none of us bothered keeping much in contact with each other. Not much of a surprise there. Half of that was actually my own doing. As I write this, all of them are away. One went on a working holiday to Australia for a year, another is in Singapore and another is off the shores of Sarawak drilling for oil. But that isn't much of an excuse. Even when they were right here in KL, I never bothered calling them. Not even a sms, chat or instant message. I was never interested to. And I guess neither were they. Some friends we are huh?

It wasn't like we had any falling out.We still chatted like old pals when we met. But I felt the bonds slowly growing thin.... and I didn't feel the need to strengthen them before they eventually broke. Perhaps I am being arrogant and reclusive.

I ask myself why with some, I feel so eager to fuel and keep the fires of friendship going... even if it meant going out of my way to call or meet them, whereas with some, I simply couldn't be bothered.

A simplistic way of seeing is is that I am merely moving on. That there was a time and place for those things.. but now.. it's time to move on to other things. But if that were so, why do I not feel that way about every other friendship? What distinguishes bonds that do lead you to a desire to renew and maintain it, and those that don't?

*Shrughs*

The closest I've gotten to an answer is this:

We keep in touch with people we are still able to identify with. People whom, when we look at them... some part of them... is just like us. That when we look at them.. we see ourselves.. or at least a hint of it. And when we associate that person to ourselves... an emotional bond develops. They become...almost an extension of us...and that's why whenever we feel that connection fading... as if an extension of us is close to being severed.... we feel the need to mend it.

Make sense much?

No?

I knew I shouldn't have drank that coffee...

Good night folks..